


The Adventure of the Yuletide Demon

by Daylight_Anthropologist



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daylight_Anthropologist/pseuds/Daylight_Anthropologist
Summary: As the Harkers wait for the birth of their first child, a young woman comes to Seward's Sanitarium, distraught at the strange illness that has befallen her fiancee, an illness that sounds all to familiar to the heroes who vanquished the demon Dracula. The Crew of Light travels to the Lyon House in London to ring in the new year amidst snow drifts and reports of wild animal attacks across the city. Demons abound as the heroes of Transylvania find themselves pushing deeper into the world of darkness.
Relationships: Jonathan Harker/Mina Harker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Adventure of the Yuletide Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote as a sort of warm up for a different project. I figured I would share it with anyone else who has strong feelings on a novel from 123 years ago. Plus it's festive.

**Johnathan Thomas Harker,**

**26 th December, 1897**

One year ago we went through fire. My wife and I were attacked by the ghoul Dracula, a demon of blood and hate. I was held captive and tortured, but nothing I endured could measure up to the pain Mina went through. The fiend nearly turned her to one of his slaves, but she fought it, pushed against his encroaching will and contamination of her spirit with the fortitude and vivacity which first drew me to her. We faced down the beast together, with dear friends at our side, and though we lost two in the fight today we stand resolute.

I do not know why I think of that awful experience today, perhaps because it was a time of great change in our lives. We lost our dear friend Lucy and her sweet mother to the beast, we traveled across Europe, and slew a fiend. Now we stand on the precipice of another great change. At this very moment Mina lays in a bed in the next room over, tended to by our friends Jack Seward and Abraham Van Helsing. I can hear her screams and moans through the walls of the house. One would think a home put to use as a sanitarium would have thicker walls. It pains me not to be at her side, but the good doctors insisted.

Arthur, that is, our friend the Lord Godalming (to think I would count a member of the peerage as a close friend, but as the Bard said, he that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother) sits with me, continually offering me brandy. I only accept every third glass. Arthur is a handsome man, with the kind of well-groomed mustache that some feel defines England. He and I are a study in contrasts. I am tall and gaunt, and my beard is rather wiry. I have not kept up with my shaving since the Inferno. The color in my beard is dark, and my hair is already streaked with silver, while Arthur’s is golden and smooth. The true difference is in our eyes. Mine droop, and I look ever tired, but Arthur’s are often blank. He lost more than Mina and I. His fiancée, his prospective mother in law, his father, and lastly his best friend, who perished saving my life in the fight.

Another scream from the bedroom. I accept Arthur’s brandy. “I could just pop my head in.”

Arthur grinned, making tired lines appear in his face. “You stay here” he commanded. “Forget the wrath of the doctors should you disobey them. Do you want to risk the wrath of Miss Mina?”

“I should rather face down another vampire.” I leaned back in my chair and looked into the fire. Outside the large window a storm raged. Lighting and thunder heralded the arrival of my child. Wind lashed at the glass. I stared at the fire, Arthur stared at the storm.

“Your child is lucky. Most people enter parenthood not knowing of what sort they are. You know what you can do, you know the lengths you’re willing to go for love.” The shadows from the fire played across the side of his face, making him look older. He poured himself another brandy.

The next sound to pierce the room was not one of Mina’s moans, but a heavy knock at the door. Arthur and I both started. We sat up from our chairs as Martin, one of the attendants shuffled past the open door of our room. A moment later we heard the main doors open. The sounds of the storm were suddenly closer. Light footsteps heralded the entrance of someone from the cold. The door shut, and Martin returned. He stopped in the doorway and bowed slightly. There were few servants in the house. Most every employees doubled as an attendant for Seward’s hospital. Martin seemed unsure of the protocol expected here.

“Someone to see Doctor Seward.”

I glanced at the door. “He is indisposed.”

Martin nodded and started to walk away but a delicate hand pushed him aside and entered the doorframe. She was quite pretty, even allowing for the fact that she was soaking wet. Golden hair hung free and plastered to her face. She might have been a Dickensian wretch but for the stern and determined expression upon her face.

“Which one of you is Seward?”

“Neither of us. Doctor Seward is busy at the moment.”

Her expression turned even more severe. I may have taken a step back. “Well then are either of you Van Helsing?”

Arthur tried to smile in his charming manner. “Would you believe, Madame that he is at this moment busy in the exact same fashion?”

The lady placed her hands upon her hips and pursed her lips. “Well that won’t do at all. How long will they be busy?”

I sighed heavily. “It is undetermined. How long does a birth last?”

Her shoulders drooped and her expression turned soft. “Somebody’s child is being delivered?”

“Mine” I said with a nod.

Her voice lost some of its edge. Whatever strength she had mustered fighting through the storm was fading. She swayed on her feet. Arthur took her gently by the arm and guided her to the chair he had just occupied, nearest to the fire. It was a fine piece of bespoke furniture that he had gifted to Seward, and it probably cost more than my suit. He let her sit upon it, dripping water onto the wood and cushions.

I returned to my seat and Arthur kneeled beside her. He took her hand, which seemed presumptuous, but then, he was Arthur and charming enough to get away with such things.

“I am Arthur Holmwood. This gentleman is my good friend Johnathan Harker. Neither of us are doctors but I wonder if we could help you in any way.”

She slid her hand away from him, getting no resistance from him, and rubbed at her cheek. “I was told that Seward and Van Helsing were the foremost experts on strange diseases. My fiancée is afflicted with such a disease. He walks in his sleep, tosses and turns and appears weaker and weaker every morning.”

I met Arthur’s eyes. We were not doctors, but I dare say we were experts in one particular disease, and we recognized its symptoms in her statement. At that moment the door to the next room opened. I leaped to my feet and rocked on my heels. Seward came out of the room, glistening with sweat. I tried to look into the room beyond him to assess the condition of my dear Mina, but he leaned his whole body across the doorway and sighed.

“False alarm” he said.

A moment later Mina came tottering out, belly swelled like a balloon, leaning on the arm of Professor Van Helsing.

“Johnathan, your child has no sense of propriety. It is a most unorderly beast.”

I went to her and put my arms around her, then looked over her shoulders at Seward. “What happened?”

“It happens occasionally. False starts. It’s nothing to worry too much about. The child should come around soon enough.” His eyes fell upon our visitor, followed by Mina’s and Van Helsing’s. He smoothed his shirt somewhat quickly and rolled down his sleeves. “Who is this?”

“Helen Moritz” she said, standing. I noticed a damp spot on the chair. It matched the trail of drips upon the carpet. As subtly as possible I motioned to one of the maids outside to fetch a towel and some dry clothes. Helen went to the three new arrivals. “I am told one of you is Seward and one is Van Helsing.”

The doctors introduced themselves while I helped Mina into my chair and reflected on the limited amount of seating in this particular room. Miss Moritz explained the symptoms of her husband’s illness while my friends and wife took on the same look of recognition Arthur and I had. When her tale was done there was a palpable darkness in the room.

“A most fascinating case you present us” Van Helsing said, stroking his thick beard. Of all of us he was best at hiding his recognition. Where does your husband reside?”

“His family’s London home at the moment.”

“And who tends to him?” Seward asked.

“A cadre of family doctors come to him when he is particularly unwell, otherwise his sister Eva. She is a medical nurse and a midwife.”

“Excellent” Mina said, pushing herself to her feet. “It shall be good to have one close at hand. The next train to London leaves at five thirty. We may rest, pack, and be on our way.”

I moved to steady her ascent. Mina was a small woman and her recently acquired mass made her movements awkward. “Darling” I said. “You must stay here.”

She gave me a sidelong glance that let me know what a stupid imperative that had been. “Johnathan, I shall accompany you” she said sternly.

“Of course” I relented.

“Splendid” Arthur said, once again going to Miss Moritz’s side. “We shall all go.”

Miss Moritz looked from one of us to the next, her face uncomprehending. “All of you? Really, I hate to trouble all of you.” She settled her eyes on Mina. “I just wished to gather the opinion of the doctors.”

Van Helsing stepped forward and bowed slightly to Miss Moritz. It was a far more natural movement than when Martin had done it. “My friends here are all experts in their own ways. Their presences shall be invaluable if we are to save your betrothed.”

Still uncertain at garnering the assistance of this troupe of madmen, Miss Moritz smiled and nodded her ascent. That night as we packed our things I dug into the bottom of my trunk and fished out a stained mahogany case. I opened it and drew the shimmering steel Kukri Arthur had gifted me one year ago. My eyes reflected in the blade were as steely as the blade itself. If this was another demon it would be dealt with as such things need be.

**Wilhelmina Molly Harker,**

**27 th December, 1897**

My knowledge of trains is unparalleled, which is why, when the five thirty train to London was late, I was most irate. You understand of course it was the train that was wrong, and not myself. Johnathan fussed over me as he does. He is more trusting of me than most men are of their wives, given what I have done to prove myself as capable as any man, but I must admit that in my present condition I am not quite as self-reliant as usual.

A half hour into the journey the men finally took my signal to excuse themselves to the dining carriage, leaving me alone with Miss Moritz. Like all dealings with demons this was not just a drama of medicine, but a mystery. A young and unmarried lady, as I once was, in the midst of such things, does not often trust the confidence of men. She would, however, be likely to trust a pregnant woman. We are given naturally trustworthy faces when carrying children. I believe it to be a survival mechanism.

“Are you comfortable?” Miss Moritz asked me.

“Quite” I said, shifting most uncomfortably in my seat. Train carriages were obviously not made for women carrying children. “I am curious about your situation. Your husband, what does he do?”

“Albert” she said in the French manner, leaving off the final consonant. “His family owns a vineyard in the south of France. He has the money to indulge whatever hobbies he chooses, mostly botany and the collection of rare stones.”

I feigned interest in this continental dilettante. “Was he on a trip of some sort, collecting samples when he took ill?”

She shook her head. “He was home, tending to his family’s grapes.”

“Close with his family then?”

“It is just himself and his sister. His parents perished in a fire when he was young. He has people to tend to the vineyard most of the time, but he wanted to be there personally this season.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I should have gone with him. Perhaps if I had been there to watch over him he would not have contracted whatever disease this is.”

I tried to appear sympathetic, which was not easy as I desperately needed the toilet. “No, had you gone, you would have contracted the disease as well, and then who would be there to call in the cavalry.” I struggled to my feet and patted her on the shoulder. “Excuse me please.”

As I tottered to the toilet compartment at the back of the carriage I passed Johnathan. We stopped a few seats down from Miss Moritz. He looked over me, scanning me for injuries as he has done for the past several months. When this whole business is concluded and the child is out of me I hope he’ll fuss over it instead.

“Johnathan” I said, keeping my voice low. “When we get to London I want you to get in touch with the Szelky in Paris and see what has been going on in France….” I searched for a word. “Demonologically speaking.”

Johnathan nodded and then tried to ask after my condition. I hastened past him to the toilet.

We arrived in London to a good amount of Christmas snowfall and a carriage waiting to take us to the London home of Albert Lyon. It was a lovely home in the richer district of the city, with a courtyard covered in twinkling candles. A Butler opened the door for us while porters helped us with trunks. I let Johnathan walk me out of the carriage and up the steps, and allowed Van Helsing, Seward, and Arthur to surround us like a contingent of Templar knights guarding pilgrims in the Holy Land.

More lights decorated the interior of the house, glinting off the stained wood. A large spruce tree sat in the center of the entrance hall and held the greatest concentration of lights. Miss Moritz, who looked quite forlorn most of the time, smiled slightly at the sight.

“My family is German. It is a tradition of our home.”

“It’s beautiful” Arthur said, and I quite agreed.

There was a great commotion just off the entrance hall. A woman, pale, high cheek boned, and dark trailed a plump balding man in a suit. She flicked her wrists at him as he made for the door.

“Shoo. Shoo. If you can’t prescribe anything but sedatives we have no use for you.”

The plump man sneered as he left. He was turning to deliver a retort when the Butler shut the door in his face. Miss Moritz shook her head and went to the dark haired woman.

“Eva, you can’t keep throwing out doctors.”

The woman called Eva stamped her foot. “I can and I will if they continue to be useless.” She rounded on us. “Who are they?”

Miss Moritz took a step back and swept her hand towards us. “Doctors Seward and Van Helsing, experts in rare diseases, and their friends, who I am assured are also quite knowledgeable.”

Eva narrowed her eyes at us. She pointed a skinny finger at me. “That one is pregnant. What use is she?”

“Eva” Miss Moritz snapped. “That’s quite enough. They’ve all come quite a long way. They are the best. Recommended by Hesselius himself.”

Eva chewed on her lip a moment and regarded Seward and Van Helsing with cold eyes. “What will you do for my brother then? Laudanum? Opium?”

The two doctors exchanged a glance.

“Observation” Seward said. “For starters. “Rare diseases often manifest the symptoms of more commonplace ones. We need to determine what exactly we’re dealing with before we embark on any definitive treatment. Until then we have some tonics. Herbs that have worked in similar cases.”

Eva’s face softened just a little, and just for a second. “You’ve seen similar cases.”

“Based on what Miss Helen has told us” Van Helsing said. “Yes, we believe we have. I would like to see the patient if possible, and Miss Lyon, if you would be so good as to speak with friend Jack while I do so. Tell him everything you can about your brother’s case.”

Eva stepped aside and waved Van Helsing forward. Van Helsing turned to me. “Miss Mina. Would you accompany me? As your doctor I would like to keep you in sight and as _Mijnheer_ Lyon’s doctor I would value your opinion on his condition.” He bowed his head. “If you are comfortable with such a thing.”

I went to his side. “Of course Professor.” I looked over my shoulder to Johnathan as we left the entrance hall. “Johnathan, do get that letter sent.”

The Butler led us down twisting halls until he we were good and lost, then took us into what I took to be the Master Bedroom. It was dark inside. The windows had been blacked out by heavy muslin screens. Probably prescribed by the doctors, but if we were dealing with what we thought we were dealing with, possibly insisted upon by Lyon himself. I remembered well the sting of the sun.

“Master Lyon” the Butler said. “May I present Professor Abraham Van Helsing and Misses Wilhelmina Harker.”

Lyon sat up from his bed. He was not a gaunt man like his sister. He did possess similar features, but his face was fuller (I am kind, I think _puffy_ is the correct adjective, a word I am acquainted with of late), if just as pale. His dark hair, even sitting in bed, was swept back, and his beard was thick and groomed to perfection. When he spoke it was with an English accent. Miss Moritz had said he was raised and schooled in England, but I had still expected Albert Lyon to speak like a Frenchman.

“I have heard of you Professor.” He said to Van Helsing. “The great healer. Can you heal me?”

Van Helsing stepped further into the room. “First we must find what ails you. Tell me how you feel?”

Lyon sat up a little straighter. He was, I noticed, shirtless, and had quite the carpet affixed to his chest. If I may strain propriety for a moment, I know that can be attractive in some cases to some women, but in this case and with this woman, it was not.

“I am weak during the day, and sleepless during the night. Several times I have wondered in my sleep. Twice I have left the house and found myself in the worst of places. The doctors prescribe me drugs to keep me immobile, they recommend sleep during the day, hence my new curtains.” He chuckled softly. “Helen fusses over me. She wants me well for the wedding. I wish to be well, but no doctor has yet determined my ailment. I hope you have more success Professor.”

“As do I” Van Helsing said.

Lyon looked like he wanted to say something else, but stopped himself. Van Helsing did not appear to notice. I stepped forward. “Is there something else sir?”

Lyon looked away from us, at the blacked out window. “Nothing of consequence.”

“Everything is of consequence” Van Helsing said gravely.

Lyon took in a deep breath. “I fancy some nights I see a shadow, a phantom looming over my bed. It’s silly. Eva and I used to have similar dreams when we were children. I’m sure that’s all it is. Stress and old nightmares.”

Van Helsing began ushering me to the door. “We must be mindful of old nightmares” he said. “Lest they return again strengthened.”

We were out of the room in an instant and it was left to me to spout hasty apologies for our departure. Van Helsing led me firmly by the arm until we were a respectable distance away from Lyon’s door.

“What do you think Miss Mina?”

My voice was small. “I think a phantom over his bed, combined with such symptoms may be something, but no one has yet mentioned loss of blood.”

Van Helsing shook his head. “Men are not raised to admit to weakness. It is possible he has symptoms undisclosed. Hopefully friend Jack can coax what is hidden from Mister Lyon’s sister. In the meantime, you and I must inspect the grounds.”

I nodded. “Of course professor, just—“

“What?” He asked concerned.

I grinned sheepishly. “I have something to attend to.” And with that I found a maid and asked where the nearest available toilet might be found.

**Letter from Johnathan Harker to Sebastian Lacroix,**

_Dear Mister Lacroix,_

_One year ago my wife and I became acquainted with a cousin of yours in Transylvania when dealing with a creature I am told your people are more knowledgeable of than mine. He told us that, should we have similar problems in the future, his family could be counted among knowledgeable allies. We believe a similar demon has come for a man known Albert Lyon, possibly at his family vineyard in the south of France. Please let us know any goings on in your corner of the world that may fit the description of symptoms I will enclose with this letter. I thank you for your help, and wish health and prosperity upon your family._

_Best Regards,_

_Johnathan Thomas Harker_

**Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming**

While one Harker went out to deliver a letter and the other scoured the grounds with Professor Van Helsing, I joined Jack and the ladies in the drawing room. A maid served us tea and biscuits. Eva Lyon touched none. Miss Moritz nibbled and sipped. She looked quite fetching now in a dry dress with her golden hair done up (not that I was looking, she just happened to sit across from me).

Eva Lyon sat across from Jack and bore into him with icy blue eyes. To his credit, Jack did not back down. He rested a notepad on his knee, though I could see how difficult it was for him. He preferred his recording device and wax cylinders when it came to taking notes.

“No injuries, marks upon the skin, blood loss. Anemia.”

“He is ill, not injured. The problem is internal.”

“Spread possibly, likely even, from the external. This began, you have said, after his trip to the vineyard. Did anything happen to him there?”

Eva’s eyes turned dark. “Much happened there, but none of it recently. Honestly Doctor Seward, you would do better to speak with my brother, get the account first hand.”

“You are trained medically. He is not, and we are so predisposed to lie to ourselves. So it is your opinion I wish to hear, and you as well Miss Moritz, should you wish to offer something.”

Something shifted in Eva’s countenance. Her expression did not soften, but she seemed, perhaps impressed. “Few, I dare say, no men care so much for the opinion of a woman in any topic, especially medicine.”

Now there was a change in Jack’s countenance. He was already dark of hair and eye, but now his bearing was dark. “I ignored the words of women twice, both ended in a death. I am ashamed to have made such a mistake twice, but thrice shall never be.”

Miss Eva smiled and there was something coquettish, yes, darkly coquettish about it. There were four of us in the room, but to Miss Eva there was only Jack, and I fancy to Jack there was only Miss Eva. Miss Moritz sensed it as well and, having sensed her sensing, I asked her if she might show me about the house and leave the two medical persons to their _medical_ talk.

We left the drawing room and I beheld once again the tree, lit up like the heavens themselves had folded over it. She was quite beautiful…. The tree, I meant of course.

“These deaths Doctor Seward speaks of, well I don’t mean to seem forward, but, I had heard your fiancée….” She stopped, seeming not to want to finish.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the lights. “Lucy. Yes. She was sick, and we waited far too long to understand what was wrong. By the time we did it was too late.” I flexed my left hand. I was born left handed, and had it beaten from me, but in that moment of panic when Lucy begged me to put her out of her misery I had regressed. The sinister hand did the dead.

“I’m sorry” Miss Moritz said. “I should not have pried.”

I would have blinked back tears if I had any left. “It’s not your fault. You seem a very kind woman, and the concern you show your fiancée is admirable.”

We walked to the window and looked out at the snowy courtyard. “He saved me” she said. “My family was ruined long ago, and we were all but destitute. Impoverished patricians. Albert’s family took me in, I think, under the proviso that I marry him. And I am happy to. I wish to repay what they did for me.”

I took her hand like I had always imagined Sir Lancelot did for Queen Guinevere (I don’t know why that came to mind). “Understand that my companions and I will do all in our power to save Mister Lyon.”

“Your companions, you care for them a great deal.”

“They are my family. The only family I have left.”

**Johnathan Thomas Harker**

Something was wrong. I once spent weeks pursued through the forests of Transylvania by things I’d care not to name, and I had developed a good sense of when I was being tailed. I was not a hunter like Arthur, or dear departed Quincey Morris, but I knew the sensation well enough. I ducked into an alleyway and waited, back pressed against the stones. This particular alleyway I shared with a drunk, slumped against the wall, shivering in the cold. People passed, bustling in and out of shops, carrying gifts and food. Mister Dickens had codified the holiday season for us and the scene before me was straight out of his work, including the scruffy, lean and hungry looking gentleman who ducked into the alley after me, though he admittedly reminded me of a different Dickens novel.

I whirled on him, lashing out with my arm. He drew a carving knife, a seasonally appropriate weapon I thought and lunged at me. I reached below my winter coat and drew the Kukri knife. The Kukri is Tibetan, wielded by their Gurkha soldiers, the only army to rival the Highlanders for sheer ferocity. The knife is the size of a short sword, with an ivory handle and a blade that curves away from the wielder. The top of the blade is bulbous, creating most of the weight. It was adapted from the farming sickle and therefor meant for chopping. Chopping produce from its stalks, or limbs from their bodies. I have only used it for the latter.

The Kukri easily deflected the carving knife. It slipped from the man’s grip and clattered to the ground. I pressed my forearm against the man’s throat and pinned him against the wall. The Kukri I kept beneath my coat, hidden, but ready to lash out. I had not been in a knife fight since the Inferno, but I had kept in practice.

“For your sake I hope you simply meant to mug me.”

The wretch looked scared, and I realized, with a pang of guilt that it was only a child. Dickensian indeed. He could not have been more than seventeen. His face was dirty and the skin beneath it sallow. I stepped away, scooping up the carving knife as I did. I was sympathetic not stupid.

“You came out of the house with the black curtains. You’re in league with them.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who?”

“Whoever’s been snatching children up off the street. Maybe if there were bodies or tarts they’d care, but nobody pays much attention when wen disappear.”

I regarded the boy. The look in his eye, the one I had mistaken for directionless anger was now familiar to me. It was the look I had taken on when we travelled to Transylvania to save Mina’s soul.

“What’s taking them?”

The boy scoffed and sneered. “ _What_? That’s a funny way of asking. Like it’s a thing not a person.”

I sheathed the Kukri. “You’d be surprised. What are you doing around the house?”

The boy shrugged. “Stealing” he said matter of fact. “It’s Christmas, we need food.”

I pulled whatever I had in my pockets out left some to the old drunk, enough for a night in a room, and gave the rest to the boy. He took it quickly but eyed it suspiciously.

“Suppose you want me to hush up.”

“Just the opposite. You have others you’re taking care of, I want to speak with them.” I looked at my watch. It was nearly supper time. “Tomorrow. Can I find you here?”

“In this random alley? No, there’s a public house a block down, we’ll be eating there.” He showed me the money I had given him before stuffing it into the pocket of his coat. He kept his hand in the pocket, presumably wrapped around the money. “Three o’clock good?”

It was, and I said as much. I went back to the Lyon house thinking about what kind of a thing would prey on children. I knew of course, of one at least.

**Mina Molly Harker**

Something aromatic and French consisting of pheasant, potatoes, and roasted vegetables all tied to together by a delightful sauce I mean to get the recipe for (Johnathan and I both enjoy learning new recipes, though I am more gifted in the kitchen than he is). Supper in the Lyon household was a holiday treat. I sat beside Johnathan. Arthur and Van Helsing sat together, Jack beside Miss Lyon, and The master of the house and his bride to be at either end of the table.

Master Lyon still had no color in his face (his fair skinned sister still had some color to her cheeks) but he ate ravenously, though mostly the meat and less the vegetables. He did not stop eating to talk as the rest of us did, but I got the impression he was listening. Eva was quite interested in my pregnancy and wished to know what we planned to name the child.

“Quincey, if it’s a boy” Johnathan said.

“And Lucille for a girl” I added.

I could see Arthur and Jack become choked up and trying to hide it, though Arthur more so.

“If I have a daughter I’m naming her Tania” Eva said.

“I’ve never heard that name” Jack said between mouthfuls of potato.

“It’s Russian” Lyon said. “We are, mutts, mixed of Russian and French ancestry. It began when Peter the Great toured Europe. Our mother was named Tania.”

“It’s lovely” Jack said, staring at Eva instead of his food and stabbing into the table with his fork rather than a carrot.

“Your parents” Van Helsing said. “They died in a fire yes?”

I closed my eyes. Professor Van Helsing was a kind man, but a stranger to the concept of tact, which he believed was simply not saying what was true. The Lyons, for their part, did not seem to mind. Master Lyon, having devoured every last scrap on his plate, pushed it aside and leaned forward.

“When I was fourteen and Eva was ten. It began in the vineyards. Father roused me from my bed in the night. I beheld the blazing grapes through my window. I went with him into the vineyards with the servants and helped them try to does the flames, but we were too late. They had spread to the house. Father ran in for Eva and pulled her out, then went back for mother, but soon the entire structure was ablaze. We watched it burn from the hilltop like Nero.”

I fancied I could see the flames dancing in his eyes.

Jack cleared his throat. “How did the fire start?”

“We don’t know” Eva said, looking down at her plate.

Lyon slapped his palm against the table, shaking all of our dishes. “The hell we don’t. A rival wine maker set the fire, and a day later one of our servants murdered him in his home. He got guillotined for it, but he was loyal to the very end. You don’t get loyalty like that in servants anymore.”

“And thank goodness for it” Arthur said, quietly enough for everyone to think he had meant to mutter it, but loudly enough for us all to actually hear. Arthur knew the rules of propriety and he knew how to play them to his advantage.

The topic was set aside during pudding and at the end of the meal Master Lyon and Miss Moritz both retired to their rooms. Jack and Eva went to the drawing room for more medical talk, though Van Helsing was absent from those particular proceedings. He went to his room to work and Johnathan and I to ours.

Johnathan told me of the events of his day and I of course insisted on accompanying him to meet the young man again tomorrow. He knew better than to argue with me. Sleep came quickly, and tonight was mercifully absent of demons. Sleep was always easier with Johnathan next to me, for both of us. I knew he would protect me, and he knew I would protect him. Dracula (the demon is named, and I shall not be afraid to speak it) tried to tear us apart, but our love was stronger than him. I shed a tear before I nodded off, for poor Arthur, who had lost the happiness we enjoyed.

Sometime in the night, a furious knocking sounded at our door. I went to open it, Johnathan clutched his knife ready to relieve whoever was on the other side of their head if need be. I opened the door and beheld Arthur, pale and sweaty. I motioned for Johnathan to lower the knife.

“Oh keep the Kukri up old boy, there’s beasts afoot.”

Johnathan, still bleary eyed, shook his head out. “What?”

“Helen saw something, a dark shape wandering the halls. Get your shoes on and come with me.”

Johnathan woke up quickly after that. He put his non-knife wielding hand on my shoulder. “Mina—”

“I am not staying put.”

“Wilhelmina you are pregnant with my child so if I said you were to stay here I think you should but as it happens I’m not saying that. Go to Miss Moritz, watch over her.”

Arthur pulled a revolver from his coat. “Take this. The bullets are silver, in case it’s a vampire. Aim for the heart.”

“Will that work?”

Arthur shrugged. He drew Quincey Morris’ Bowie Knife from a sheath on his belt. “It won’t feel good.”

Johnathan and Arthur went running through the halls with their knives whilst I barricaded myself and Miss Moritz in her chambers. She was, I noticed, wearing very sheer nightdress which was not terribly good for my focus. I trained my eyes and the barrel of the revolver on the door.

“Krampus” she muttered breathlessly. “Krampus.”

“What?” I asked irritably. On top of the stress of the situation and ignoring her near nakedness I desperately needed the toilet.

“The demon, the mountain demon that comes for naughty children. I had bad thoughts. Bad thoughts and it could tell. It was Krampus, big and hairy with claws like swords.”

I vaguely remembered the legend from some of German children I had taught. It was a companion to their version of Father Christmas, _Sinterklass_ , and was a pagan demon enslaved by the Saint who punished naughty children. The Germans had given us many fine Yuletide traditions, this was not one of them.

“Just stay calm” I said, trying to level my voice. “If it is a demon then I have six rounds rapid for it.”

Thirty tense minutes later my hand had grown so sweaty the gun was beginning to slip. A knock sounded on the door. Miss Moritz started. I tightened my grip on the revolver and aimed for the spot on the door that would roughly correspond to the center of mass of whoever was on the other side. Fortunately I did not fire as moments later Johnathan identified himself. I opened the door and in came Johnathan and Arthur, both looking worse for the wear.

“There was definitely something. It left claw marks on the windowsill before it got away.”

“For the best” Arthur said. “I don’t think our knives would have done much against it. It was quite large.” I handed him the gun. He took it and then looked past me to Miss Moritz. “Perhaps you should stay with her tonight.”

I shook my head. “Perhaps Miss Eva. You two and Jack can take shifts outside the door. And perhaps we should send for the Winchester rifles.”

“They’re in my trunk” Arthur said. He went to Miss Moritz’s side and to his credit, seemed not to be looking at her nakedness. She seemed at once pleased to see him and wary of his presence. I thought I had a good idea what ‘bad thoughts’ she had been talking about. I assumed he would take the first watch.

Johnathan and I went to retrieve Miss Eva, who was already up from all the noise. She agreed to stay the night with Helen and Jack agreed to take the next shift, leaving Johnathan and I free to return to our room. Johnathan double checked the locks and the latches on the windows before he put the Kukri away. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him, my dark haired knight. He looked older than he was, then I suppose so did I. He sat beside me and put his arm around me. He kissed me slowly and for a brief moment there were no monsters, no vampires, no Dracula, just myself and Johnathan.

When we were finished he eyed me wearily. “You want to know what I saw.”

I smiled. He knows me so well. “Spare no detail. Any might be important.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calling up the memory. “It was tall, tall enough that it had to bend down to get through the doors, and wide enough that it had to twist its body to make it through the window. It was smart though, because it opened the window, gently, gingerly, like it didn’t want to damage anything. It did though, because there were scratches on the sill and the glass, fresh ones and old ones.”

“It’s been around before” I said.

Johnathan nodded. “And it leaped to the next rooftop, disappeared into the shadows, so no looks for tracks in the snow. I think, I don’t know how but I think that was deliberate. It didn’t want to be followed and it made pains not to.”

“What do you think it was after?”

Johnathan shook his head, shaggy locks swinging side to side. “I can’t say. Food, warmth, blood.” He looked up. “Miss Moritz. Arthur said it was heading for her room when they saw it.”

I smiled despite the situation. Demons or no I will have my little dramas to revel in. “What was Arthur doing near Miss Moritz’s room?”

Johnathan laid back on the bed and pulled the covers up over his body. “You know full well” he said, closing his eyes.”

Yes, I supposed I did.

**Johnathan Thomas Harker,**

**28 th December, 1898**

We awoke early and at breakfast none of us needed to be informed of what had transpired in the night. The story had made its way to Mister Lyon and Professor Van Helsing, who had not been roused from sleep (Van Helsing has a singularly amazing ability to sleep through commotion, I do not understand it, but I envy it). As Mina and I were leaving for our appointment with the Dickensian urchins Van Helsing approached us, dressed in a long fur coat and hat.

“I wish to accompany you. I feel the testimonial of these youths will be most enlightening.”

“As you wish professor” I said, holding the door open for Mina. A carriage was waiting for us outside, driven by one of Lyon’s men.

I let Professor Van Helsing walk Mina to the carriage while I went back into the house. Seward was busy checking on both Lyons and Moritz, but Miss Lyons was standing by the tree, looking at the doused candles. She turned to me as I approached.

“Mister Harker” she said, her tone clipped and professional. “I don’t know whether you and your comrades have arrived in the nick of time or have brought this madness upon us.”

“The former I hope.”

“I think I do too” she said.

I shifted on my feet, trying to find the right words. “Your brother is very loud and explains things before you have the chance.”

She kept her eyes on the tree. “Most men are like that.”

“Is there anything you’d like to say while he’s not around?”

A little smirk played across her face. “Mister Harker I am not superstitious like Helen. I believe in what can be felt and touched and quantified. It has not escaped my notice that all of you, including the otherwise sound minded Doctor Seward, are occultists. You believe Helen was attacked by a Krampus and that something supernatural ails my brother. A malady of the spirit. So, no, I do not have anything to say. I do not believe some phantom _Loup-Garou_ is attacking my family. I think my brother is having bad dreams brought on by the superstitious.”

“But you’re letting us stay?”

“Superstitious or not, your doctors are helping Helen and Albert seems to like you.”

I turned for the door. “You know I believe in what I can see and touch as well, it’s just that I’ve seen and touched more things than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“You Englanders and your Shakespeare” she said as I left.

The carriage took us to the pub the Dickensian youth had told me about. It was small and quiet for a pub, but it was also quite early in the day. I saw the young man sitting with two companions, a girl about his age, and a boy far younger. They feasted on a large chunk of steaming mutton. On the way over I had bought a side of beef myself and gave it to the staff to cook up. We sat at their table.

“You came” the boy said through a mouthful of mutton. “Honestly didn’t think you would.”

“I knew” the girl said. She smiled at me, then at Mina. Actually she beamed at Mina, evidently thrilled as some people were to see the development of new life. Mina politely smiled and nodded back and eyed their mutton hungrily, though she was content to wait for our own meat to arrive. “How long?”

“It’s due any time now” Mina said.

With Mina’s permission, she felt her swelled stomach. A little glaze came over the girl’s eyes. “He’ll be strong, noble, sad, but resilient. He will endure and he will be loved.” She withdrew her hand and stared at us blankly.

Mina and I blinked at her. “What was that?”

“A reading” Van Helsing said, his face splitting into a broad grin. “Yes? I have only witnessed a true reading once and it was not nearly so beautiful as that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sir” the girl said, hiding her face.

The boy defensively put his arm around her. “She just gets funny sometimes, ain’t nothing to laugh at. Ain’t nothing to point it. Most times it keeps us safe. Got us out before whatever that _thing_ was slaughtered a whole ring of fighting dogs the other day.”

I arched an eyebrow. “ _Thing_?”

The boy looked around furtively. “You was right guv’na. It’s not no human. It’s an animal, like some kind of mad dog on two legs. We saw it, but Angelina got us out before the carnage started.”

“I read about that in the morning paper” Mina said. “They said dogs got loose, killed the owner.”

The boy scoffed. “It weren’t no dogs that killed him. It were this creature, eyes like fire. God above I ain’t never seen the like.”

Professor Van Helsing shook his head. “Hope that you never do again.”

Our meat was laid down on the table but suddenly Mina and I were not so hungry. The young man gave us the location where the attacks were perpetrated and we left him and his companions with the food. It was the season after all. Outside the fresh air made me feel slightly less woozy. One or even three vampires I could handle, but something that killed in a frenzy…. I put my arm around Mina’s shoulder, damn how improper it looked.

The coachman came up to us, a small envelope in his hand. “A boy delivered this. Said he went to the house looking for you and Doctor Seward told him where to find you.”

I thanked him and took the note. It was a telegram, express delivered from Paris. My answer from Lacroix. The Roma were nomadic and often put upon by the upper echelons of the society, who referred to them by another name I have since learned they do not care for, and so refrain from using myself. They are like any other men, nobles and scoundrels in equal measure, but being outcasts many more of them know more about the preternatural than those who walk in so called respectable circles.

The note was but two words. _Loup-Garou_. I passed it to Van Helsing.

“I’ve heard this term before. Miss Lyon mentioned it.”

“It is French” Van Helsing said. “Their word for the beast known as a werewolf.”

Mina pursed her lips. “I thought that was just another form of vampire.”

“ _Nee_ , or yes, but no.”

“Well that clears things up” I said.

“The vampire can turn from man to beast, so, yes linguistically, one that becomes a wolf is a were-wolf, that is, a _man-wolf_. But there is a separate class of legend, one my dear Anna often studied before madness took her. It is the man which is cursed, or curses himself with the soul of the beast, who transforms either at will, or under the light of particular phases of the moon. I admit I have yet to encounter such a beast directly, though I have had brushes with things I might consider similar.”

My hand went to the hilt of the Kukri beneath my coat. “How do we kill it?”

Van Helsing shook his head. “This I do not know. Most likely silver, a notable defense in many ancient legends and, we know, effective against the Nosferatu. Possibly holy symbols, perhaps garlic or wolfsbane. Such things are untested or at the very least the tests are unverified. This I will say. When we go to combat the beast, should be so lucky, or unlucky as the case may be, we should hope to catch it in its human form. If what you and Friend Arthur saw last night was the Werewolf, it is not a creature to be fought with knives.”

Arthur and I had known as much last night, but still, the sheathed Kukri comforted me.

“We need intelligence yes. All battles are won on intelligence. We have a name to the beast. Therefore, we must find all that we can on it.” Mina’s words rang true, and her bearing was that of a field commander despite being roughly the shape of a balloon. “Professor, where may we gather intelligence?”

Professor Van Helsing stroked his beard thoughtfully. If you had asked me to draw a university lecturer, the platonic ideal of one, the sketch would resemble Van Helsing at this moment. Eventually he ceased stroking his beard and cried out in sudden inspiration. He is a most dramatic gentleman.

“There is an archive of folklore, not far from here. My dear Anna visited much in the past. If they remember me they may let us inside.”

“Splendid. Mina, would you accompany the Professor?”

Mina clung to my arm. “And what will you do?”

“Something idiotic.”

**Doctor Johnathan Seward**

The place where Harker’s note said to meet was unpleasant to say the least. It smelled of death and feces, two smells that went together more often than not. Some _thing_ had torn through several wooden support beams, turning what I think was once a warehouse of some sort on the docks into a half collapsed triangle shape. If the sun had been shining in the sky, it would have sent shafts of light through the roof, instead columns of snow blanketed the exposed floor.

I met Harker inside where he was already examining the bloody patches where bodies had been before the police moved them. He was down on one knee, examining the evidence like that detective from _The Strand_ , come to that, he resembled the illustrations as well, all dark hair, and hawkish face.

“Seward” he said, rising slowly to his feet. “Did you bring what I asked?”

From my pocket I drew the revolver with its silver bullets, a vial of sedative, and a fresh syringe. “Someone less trusting might think you were planning something unsavory” I said, giving him an arch look.

Harker took the gun and checked the cylinder. “Now why would anyone think that?” he finished with the gun and slipped it into the inner pocket of his overcoat. Then he gestured around to the wrecked space. “Thoughts.”

“Dogfighting ring from what I read in the paper. You said something else killed the patrons though.”

“A werewolf” Harker said. “A man who becomes a beast, but not a vampire.”

Even with the experiences of the last year the thought did not easily find a place in my mind. I knew little of such beasts, though I tried to learn more every day. I did, however, know animals, especially predators. There had been occasions when I joined Arthur and Quincey Morris on their hunting expeditions. A predator must rest after feasting. It grows slow, sluggish, and needs to find a place where it believes itself to be safe that it may rest and digest. I suddenly saw the reasoning of Harker’s plan. We were at the start of the trail, and if we could track it to the end we would find the beast in its lair.

Claw marks and scuffs on the pavement, the kind of things Peelers would not notice but we did. We followed them for a good thirty minutes until, at last, the trail ran cold. We stood in an alleyway, our only company a drunkard and stared at the bare cobblestones.

I pursed my lips. “Well shit.”

“I will admit I had hoped we’d get a little further” Harker said, putting his hands on his hips.

“You tracking the shaggy man?”

We both turned our heads, though I must admit I looked the wrong way. It had been the drunkard who spoke, but Harker noticed him before I did. He knelt in the gutter beside the man. The old tramp was greasy, I think that is the best word, and had teeth so black they might have been bits of coal.

“Shaggy man?” Harker asked, his voice softening.

The tramp looked up into Harker’s eyes and something like recognition flashed across his face. “You was the one who gave me coin yesterday. Most folk wouldn’t think to do that.”

“I know what it is to be desperate and need charity.” Harker said. It was without pretense or guile. A simple statement of fact. “Did you see something in this alley?”

The tramp nodded. “Big bloke, all covered in shaggy hair. Thought it was some kind of ape at first, but it had a head like a bloomin’ dog.”

Harker and I exchanged a glance and then Harker nodded and turned back to the tramp. “Which way did he go?”

“Up towards Hoxton Street. Thought he was gonna have me for supper, I did, but he must have already eaten.”

Harker stood. “Hoxton, that’s where—”

“Miss Lyon is” I finished. Harker gave me a sidelong glance that I think he must have picked up from Mina. “And, the others of course.” I took a long, deep breath. “Once more unto the breach.”

**Mina Molly Harker**

There is something singularly amusing about the way in which a man, tasked to protect an archive, will sputter and stare when his duty to keep women out conflicts with his need to treat a lady, especially a pregnant lady, with respect. When the child was out of me I would not miss the frequent toilets, the aches, the constant hunger, but I would miss being able to turn society to my advantage.

In the end, the archivist let us enter, and Van Helsing and I spent a long while poring over the mustiest of volumes. Three hours in I had learned how to say werewolf in several different languages but nothing definitive about how to kill them.

“Was it like this with vampires Professor? Was there just no way to know what would work until you tired it?”

“It was much the same” he said solemnly. He traced his finger across a page. “Miss Mina, do you read French?”

“I do” I said, and he slid the book to me.

“I wish your opinion on the third passage down.”

I began reading.

_Tooth and claw, fur and fang, savagery and slavery. The werewolf forms its pack. The beast destroys that which it cannot control. It guards jealously that which might leave it. It is primal fury unleashed. It will destroy that which it was. It has done this, and will continue. Sons beget sons and sons destroy fathers. What profane thing is this? Did they bring it in their crusades? Was it always here? It matters not. The moon rises. The beast turns cleansing fire against the world. The lion is a wolf. Signed, Dumont, inspector of the city of Paris, 1752._

I pushed the book away, carrying out some deeper instinct. “The lion is a wolf.” I blinked. “Oh hell’s bells.”

Van Helsing was already on his feet and gathering his coat in his arms. “And apt expression Miss Mina. Now come, we must make haste.” I stood and my eyes widened in sudden surprise. I stood motionless beside my chair. Van Helsing, already by the door, beckoned me to follow. “Miss Mina now, the sun is nearly set, time is of the essence.

I placed my hand on my swollen belly. “This little beast really does have the worst timing.”

**Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming**

The sun was setting and the moon rising. I checked my watch. Jack should be back, John and Mina and the Professor should be back. Somebody should be in the house but me, not a doctor or a vampire slayer, or a person with singular powers of observation, just Arthur Holmwood, member of the peerage for all the good that did. I double checked the Winchesters in my trunk before I left my room, and patted Quincey’s Bowie knife strapped to my hip. Then I went down to the drawing room where Helen—that is, Miss Moritz, was working on her needle point. Miss Lyon was there too, nose buried in a book.

I made a little _a-hem_ noise to announce my entrance and the women looked up at me. “I don’t suppose either of you could go check on Mister Lyon. My companions should be back soon and I fancy they’ll have answers.”

Helen sat up at once and, setting her needle point aside, crossed over to me. Miss Lyon kept to her book. “I’ll walk you there.”

I held my arm out to her (as a gentleman does, nothing more) and let her lead me through the house. As we passed out of the drawing room and through the entrance hall I stumbled a bit. I would have thought nothing of it. I was tired and the floor may have been a bit uneven. I caught myself well enough but it made me tug unduly on Helen’s arm. Her sleeve receded and I caught a glimpse of mottled purple on her wrist. She hid it quickly but she knew that I had noticed.

“Clumsy me” she said. “I walked—”

“Into a door no doubt” I said gravely. I stopped in the middle of the entrance hall, between the tree and the large window that opened onto the courtyard. Helen would not meet my eyes. “Miss Moritz, please know that I do not judge you, but if someone has harmed you—”

“I am told it is natural for a husband to discipline his wife when she becomes erratic and though we are not technically married I do believe—”

She sounded no more convinced that I was. I took her wrist gently and pulled back the sleeve to examine the wound. “Have you shown Miss Eva?”

Helen shook her head. “Eva would only grow angry. She cares not for her brother’s temper and would confront him. It would only bring his wrath upon her as well.”

And I had no doubt Miss Lyon could handle her brother’s wrath and return it tenfold, but while Arthur Holmwood was present she would not have to. I steeled myself for what lie ahead. This wretch had taken advantage of our good will while perpetrated the worst injustice on so delicate a creature. I would drive the Bowie knife through his heart and—

I steadied myself. Helen—Miss Moritz was looking at me with great concern. Slowly reason flowed back into my mind. Was I to challenge the man to a duel? Pistols at dawn as though we were cavaliers? I realized my jacket was drawn back and my hand resting on the hilt of the blade. I released it and fixed my suit to cover it once more. Then I looked into the gentle face of Miss Moritz and tried to match some of her grace.

“My apologies Miss, but such a delicate creature should not be treated so poorly.”

I thought at that moment about kissing her, which would have been highly improper. God evidently agreed for at that moment he sent a carriage careening through the large glass window. I acted on instinct, and, I fancy, with some of the hunter’s spirit of dear departed Quincey at my back. My arms went around Helen and together we flew to the side as the carriage, unmoored from its horses, rolled through the entrance hall and crashed into the tree. Candles dropped and small fires started on the curtains of the vehicle.

Miss Lyon came out of the drawing room just as Mina, hanging off the shoulder of Van Helsing and white as a sheet stepped from wreckage, miraculously unmarred. Helen clung to me and I had no desire to push her off, but Mina was obviously in need of help. Luckily Miss Lyon was observant and amazingly calm in the face of danger.

“She has gone into labor” Van Helsing said, all but carrying Mina to the nearest divan. Miss Eva did as midwives do and soon the tiny, and unmarred corner of the entrance hall was fit for a delivery.

I looked about the wreckage and then to Van Helsing. “Where the devil are the horses?” I looked again. “Or the bloody driver?”

“A loyal servant” Van Helsing said between sharp breaths. “Just not to us.”

I stared at the Professor while my heart slowly resumed its normal rhythm. “What?”

My answer came, not from Van Helsing, but from the window. I fancy it was the beast from the previous night, large, shaggy furred, and wearing the tattered livery of a groom’s uniform. The face was animal, though still with recognizable human qualities. The teeth were the most pronounced, being jagged, sharp, and crooked. Drool dripped from the creature’s maw as it climbed through the window and advanced on us—

And was stopped just as abruptly when a bullet pierced its skull. It flopped dead to the ground whereupon it resumed a rough if deformed human shape as black blood pooled around it. Somebody, I think Miss Eva, cried something uncouth which I could most certainly forgive her for.

Following the trajectory of the shot I saw Mina, prone on the divan, legs up and spread ready to deliver her child into the world, and clutching a smoking revolver. I blinked. You know, at this point I am starting to see the value in giving women the vote.

Mina huffed. “I will tolerate no more monsters until I have this child out of me.”

Eyes wide, Miss Eva gingerly took the revolver from Mina’s hand and set it on the floor, then proceeded with the delivery. Helen’s arms still wrapped around me, I crossed to Van Helsing?

“What the—(I have written a great many things here which would scandalize a reader of propriety, but I shall not reproduce what I said at this moment, it having been in quite poor taste)—is going on?”

Van Helsing had always struck me as unflappable, but now I saw him…flap? I suppose. He rested one arm against the wreck of the carriage and stared down at the deformed corpse.

“It makes not sense” he said. “Not sense at all. The book, the journals had references to servants yes, but it should have been—”

A sound pierced the night like nothing I had ever heard. Well, I suppose that is not strictly true, it was _like_ the howl of a wolf in the same was the sputtering hiss of a kitten was _like_ the roar of an African lion. A dark shape emerged from the hallway, so tall it had to bend down to fit through the door. Seven or eight feet I should have thought, with arms long like those of an ape, ending in long claws. Its body was lean but its shoulders broad. It was completely naked and identifiably male, though I had to squint through a full body covering of dark black fur. Its head was fully lupine, but its eyes distressingly human, except of course, that they glowed red.

Hellen screamed “Krampus” and nearly swooned in my arms.

Then the _thing_ spoke and I nearly swooned as well.

“I invited you into my home. I granted you food, drink, beds, and you try to take my women.” It extended a long finder at me and I fancied the claw at the end elongated a bit. “I know the impure thoughts you share.” The worst part was just how human he still sounded. The voice was deeper, gravellier, but still ultimately recognizable.

A gasp came from Eva. She looked up from Mina’s—from the birth. “Brother?”

Mina reached for the gun, but her fingers were too far from where Miss Eva had set it. Albert lunged before anyone else could make for it, springing with his haunches and swatting it across the floor. The firearm slid on the polished wood, coming to a stop against the carriage wheel. Now standing beside Mina and Miss Eva, Albert rose to his feel height and barred his teeth at them.

“You were always willful sister. I had hoped the fire would take care of you, like it took care of mother and father. The way they doted on you, let you run rampant, it is no wonder your soul is as ruined as it is. It is a wonder I turned out as pure as I did under their inauspicious parenting.”

I swallowed. Not only was he a beast, but quite mad as well. One of his blazing eyes was trained on the pistol and I had no doubt if any of us made a go for it he would devour us whole. On top of that the fire from the spilled candles was no blazing quite large upon the wreckage of the carriage. When the universe decides to throw a challenge it does not go in for half measures.

“I will tear you limb from limb, and then I will tear the child from this wretch’s belly and feast upon it, and I will string up her body for her—”

It is occasionally said that at certain moments in one’s life the choir of the angels can actually be heard. I do not know if it was an angels choir I heard, but it was triumphant, raucous and heroic. I fancy I heard the music one might hear when a Knight of the Round table leaps into battle.

There was Johnathan Harker, like Sir Galahad himself, leaping through the air, Kukri raised over his head. The leaf shaped tip is not ideal for stabbing but with a sharp enough blade and enough force anything is possible. The blade skewed Albert’s left shoulder, digging in to the middle of the blade and sticking there. Harker held on for heard life, face set in a grimace, coat flapping at his back like the cape of Saint George. He hung from his blade, some feet from the ground as Albert tried to reach back to swat him away as one might an insect.

Then came Jack Seward, a Winchester in each hand. He tossed one to me and I caught it and aimed it in one fluid motion. Once I was sure Harker was not in the shot I fired, catching the beast in the ribs. Jack fired at the same time but neither of our shots did anything but distract the beast. Albert raised his maw to the sky and howled.

“I am the king of wolves. I am strong and virile and I need no others. I will cleanse this world of the harlots and the—”

Harker’s knife slid from his back and both weapon and wielder hit the ground. This must have hurt Albert because he broke from his speech and roared, a noise I was mostly sure wolves could not make.

Somewhere, it sounded far away, a baby cried. I dared not look away from the beast but I knew John and Mina’s child must have been born. What a time to come into the world. I shuffled across the room, rifle at the ready to make one last stand for my friend and her child. The beast’s eyes followed me. They should not have.

As I said, our bullets were distraction.

Five rounds rapid hit Albert Lyon square in the chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. After all that had happened it was a bit anti-climactic, but that is the nature of being shot in the chest. It was just a matter of firing the right ammunition. I turned from the body as it shrunk like that of its servant, turning into a deformed husk of Albert Lyon. I expected to see Professor Van Helsing or Harker with the gun. Instead I saw Helen Moritz, both hands wrapped around the revolver, knuckles white, still pulling the trigger on empty chambers. Professor Van Helsing went to her and gently took the weapon.

I looked to the divan where Eva Lyon handed a beautiful, wet, slimy baby boy to Mina. John was at her side in an instant, leaping over the corpse of the werewolf. Eva was looking at her brother’s body with something like pity mixed with relief. I suddenly understood that she must have known the kind of the man her brother was, she simply had not known how far gone he was. She was free now, as was Helen.

Fire spread quickly and we all ran from the house. The fire brigade arrived soon but the house was gone. No matter. Things can be replaced, and besides, it was almost the New Year, a time for starting over.

I went to Helen as we watched her home burn. Miss Eva was with her, and if there was any bad blood between them over the killing of Albert it did not show on Miss Eva’s face. I reckoned the sisterly bond between the two was stronger than the bond between the Lyon siblings. Eva stayed with her as I approached.

“Is she alright?”

Eva only shrugged.

Helen opened her mouth a few times but failed to speak. Finally though, she produced words. “It had to be done” she squeaked. “But what kind of a person kills their fiancée?” Her words were punctuated with little sobs.

I closed my eyes and felt the snow fall on my lashes. She would never look at me the same if I told her, but of course it was more important she not feel alone than I preserve her affection for me.

“May I tell you about the last woman I loved?”

**Mina Molly Harker**

**3 rd January, 1899**

The little beast really is Johnathan’s child. Same face, same nose, my eyes though, and my hair, and I think the smallest portion of my love of trains, judging by how excited he gets when he hears the whistles in the distance. We have named him Quincey of course, and it was all Arthur could do to hold back his tears when he beheld the child named for his best friend. In fact his name links all our little band. He is Quincey Abraham Arthur Jack Murray Harker and I think he will be a spectacular man.

We rang in the New Year at Arthur’s family estate and aside from Quincey’s fits it was quite a relaxing time compared to the days preceding it. Given he was recently wrenched from the safety of the womb into a pitched and fiery battle between good and evil I think we can forgive the occasional fit.

Yesterday we received word from Eva Lyon asking if she and Miss Moritz could visit. Arthur could not have said yes quicker and I fancy if he had hesitated, Jack would have answered in his place. They are like schoolboys the pair of them and they deserve their happiness. I hope it is as blissful as that which I share with Johnathan and little Quincey.

My son knows how loved he is, but one day, surrounded by friends such as these, he will know the power of that emotion, that it would drive so many to do so much on each other’s behalf.

**Author's Note:**

> Helen and Eva are, naturally, named after Helen Sutter and Eva Seward, alternate versions of Mina from different movie adaptations. They are patterned after Robin Wright and Helena Bonham Carter respectively, because, you know, Cary Elwes and Richard E. Grant (I'm not really a fan of that version of Dracula, but I am a fan of the casting of that movie).
> 
> I am sure I got some aspects of the late Victorian era incorrect. I tried my best based on a lifetime of reading Victorian Literature, three seasons of Penny Dreadful, and several hours of Assassins Creed Syndicate.
> 
> There was originally an epilogue but it ties in with an ongoing project I am working on and is not ready to be shared. So poor Van Helsing got his section cut.
> 
> I tried to invoke the Sherlock Holmes naming convention but I admit I had a devil of a time coming up with something.


End file.
